Page 49 of A Scot for Bethan
“She’s in the herb garden just outside the postern gate. Go to her and beg her not to gut me for revealing what she was desperate to keep from you. Then offer for her again, making it clear why you’re doing it this time. If she will have you instead of me, I won’t stand in your way. As you know, my feelings are not engaged in this affair, only my deepest affection and a desire to save her reputation and give her child a name. I will easily relinquish the honor of looking after her to the man who will be a far better husband that I could ever be.”
Cameron placed his hand on Sir William’s shoulder, knowing that from now on he would count the man amongst his dearest friends. He’d been prepared to offer Bethan—and his unborn child—the protection they needed. It was clear that he had done so solely for her sake, not to put an end to malicious rumours concerning the way he’d chosen to live his life. If he’d wanted to do that, he would be long married by now.
“For everything you did, you have my eternal gratitude.”
Sir William rolled his eyes to the sky and gave a mock sigh. “Your gratitude. Yes. I guess that is all I will ever get from you, so I will have to be content with it. Now, go.”
Chapter Fifteen
There she was, sitting on a wooden bench, alone, staring into the distance, her profile pure and delicate against the backdrop of burned leaves and swirling skies.
Cameron drank her in. How he had missed her, how precious she was to him, doubly so now that he’d been told about the bairn she was about to give him. She had changed clothes since that morning and was now wearing a simple woolen gown and a tight wimple. An odd choice for a young, unmarried woman, one who never wore veils. It framed her face completely, covering even her forehead and cheeks. In the severe headdress she looked like a widow.
Still achingly beautiful.
His gaze dropped to her stomach, but he could not detect any swelling under the heavy folds of her gown. It was early days yet, but perhaps she would feel different under his palm. As soon as she allowed him to draw her into his arms, he would splay his hands over her belly and meet his child. The thought was so dizzying he had to brace himself against the stone wall for fear he would collapse. A child with Bethan… Only a few days ago he’d not imagined she would ever be his wife and here he was, about to become a father—and a husband.
He cleared his throat, causing her to turn to face him. Panic flared in her eyes, followed by something else. Desire? Hope?
Not wanting her to balk again, he stayed where he was and waited for her to speak.
“Cameron.”
He took a step forward. The cold tone was not exactly encouraging. But at least she had not called him “Laird Campbell.” It was something.
“Ealasaid, you?—”
“Don’t call me that.”
It was the first time she had prevented him from using his special name for her and it stung. But he understood why she would feel raw, so he kept silent.
She stood up, eyes flashing. “What are you doing here? How did you convince William to tell you where I was?” She shook her head, in anger or disappointment, he wasn’t sure quite which. “I swear I will gut him for this.”
There it was, the threat he’d been warned about.
Should he lie, protect the man from her ire, pretend he’d found her here on his own? No. There would be no misunderstanding between them from now on, no lies. Besides, he wanted her to know he had come with her friend’s full agreement.
“I didn’t need to convince him. He told me of his own accord where you were, since he, like me, is of the opinion that we should talk. He also told me to beg you not to gut him for doing so, a wise precaution, apparently, since you’ve already promised to do just that. So I’m begging you. Please don’t gut him.”
To his relief, her mouth quivered. Maybe all hope was not lost… If they could only talk, if he could only explain, if she could only trust him, if they could only recapture what had once been between them, then all would be well. There was no other choice,anyway. It was not just about the two of them now. They had their child to consider. The bairn needed them,bothof them.
“Why did you flee that day, leaving me without a word of reassurance as to your whereabouts?” he asked, taking another step forward. “I worried myself sick, wondering what had happened to you, imagining the worst.”
She had the good grace to appear guilty. “I know, I’m sorry but I had to leave. After what you did…”
“What was that? Ask you to marry me?” It was hard not to sound accusatory, but he still felt the sting of her rejection keenly. She had thought him as despicable as those rogues who wanted her fortune, not the woman she was, and it had hurt. True, he had not proclaimed his undying love when he’d offered to marry her, but there were worst slights to inflict on a woman than to tell her he would take responsibility for what he’d done.
“Yes.”
Bethan could not forget—or forgive—that Cameron had come to her only once she had become a rich woman. As coincidences went, this one was hard to swallow. While they had ridden to Scotland, and she was of no consequence, he had not allowed his desire for her to overwhelm him, even though it had been obvious she shared it. Though she had to agree he felt something for the woman she was, rather than merely wanting the fortune she could bring him, it was hard not to conclude that he’d been swayed as much by her newfound fortune as by any affection he felt for her. And after the disaster of her betrothal to Dougal, she hadn’t wanted to marry for any reason other than love. Alas, as could have been predicted, that luxury had been denied to her.
Because she had fallen with child from her encounters with the fiery Scot.
William had walked in on her one morning, emptying the contents of her stomach in the lists. When the same thing had happened three times in a row, there had been no hiding whatwas ailing her. Her friend had provided the support she had needed, uttering no judgment, offering to make her his wife without delay, even if people would guess that he could not be the father of this baby. He had made her see that he was her only hope at respectability and she’d been grateful for his offer. They weren’t in love, admittedly, but at least they had the honesty to acknowledge it, and life with him would be more pleasant than with most men.
“You ken very well what motivated my offer of marriage,” Cameron said, taking another step toward her. He was being very careful, as if he thought her a timid doe who could bolt at any time, not an unreasonable thought, she had to admit. She was fighting the urge to flee again and avoid the painful conversation.
“I do know what prompted your offer. And we both know it was not love.”
